


All's Well That Ends With Drarry

by aroacegirl



Category: All's Well That Ends Well - Shakespeare, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, HP: EWE, M/M, POV Multiple, Short Chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroacegirl/pseuds/aroacegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war ends, the Ministry is determined to end pureblood supremacy by ending the existence of purebloods. Harry, having won the war, is given his choice of which pureblood to marry. Everyone is surprised when he chooses Draco Malfoy. Comedy ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fanfiction. Actually, my professor told us that we can get a bonus point if we write a fic for All's Well that Ends Well. So, naturally, I had to do Drarry. Hope you enjoy it! Please tell me if there are any problems or criticisms.

Draco Malfoy was gay. Very, very gay. He had known his whole life—or, at least, ever since he had known what lust and crushes were. It didn’t particularly bother anyone; wizards are more lenient about that sort of thing than Muggles are. In fact, it made everything easier. As a pureblood, especially as a Malfoy, and the last Malfoy at that, it was his duty to carry on the family line and have a pureblooded heir. No one cared what he did on the side, as long as he had a son with his pureblood wife.

  
Being as rich as he was, the young Draco Malfoy was a treasured prize. His mother, Narcissa, loved him enough that she wanted to offer him the choice of wife. But when he was 13 years old, the traditional age of a betrothal contract, he defiantly told her that all the girls at Hogwarts were beneath him. He would marry any of the Slytherins, he supposed, whatever would please his parents.

  
In truth, he would have preferred Pansy Parkinson. At least she was his friend. But more than anything else he desperately wanted to please his unpleasable father. And so his father made a very advantageous match with the younger Greengrass girl, and that was the end of that.

  
He had plenty of boyfriends along the way. Most were Slytherins, but a few were Ravenclaws. Ravenclaws, Draco firmly believed, were the least inferior of the other houses. They weren’t simpering, emotional Hufflepuffs or idiot, Potterish Gryffindors. (He always thought of Potter when he thought of Gryffindor. Or when he thought of pretty much anything else, for that matter. Oh, how Potter irked him.)

  
His last boyfriend was Marcus Belby, a Ravenclaw a year above him. That was fifth year. Marcus was a darling, but so many of his friends were fond of that ridiculous Harry Potter and his stupid secret club. No one would ever invite Draco to something like that. Marcus broke with him after he decided to help Professor Umbridge. They saw each other briefly for the last time the next year, when Draco was caught “sneaking in” to the Slug Club. Another club he wasn’t invited to.

  
Sixth year he was too busy for romance, between his mission for the Dark Lord and the extent he had to go to to avoid Harry Potter. Seventh year, dating was absolutely out of the question. No use getting attached to someone at that point. Instead, he made an effort to get to know Astoria. She was pretty enough, for a girl. Never stopped talking, but she was easy to ignore. Their marriage would probably be awful, Draco decided, but he could live with it.

  
And then the Dark Lord fell. And everything changed. Harry freaking Potter saved his life. Purebloods, instead of being the prize of Great Britain wizardry, were hated. The Greengrasses quickly broke the betrothal in an attempt to separate themselves from the Death Eaters.

  
For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy had no idea what the future held in store.


	2. Our Remedies Oft In Ourselves Do Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry spends the summer at Malfoy Manor

Hermione wasn’t surprised at Harry’s decision the beginning of their eighth year at Hogwarts. She was the only one, but she was observant. He had been obsessing over Malfoy since they were children. Literally obsessing. He spent half of sixth year stalking the guy. It was ridiculous.

 

 

  
Still, even she was surprised when he asked Narcissa if he could spend the summer after they defeated Voldemort at Malfoy Manor. She knew that he never wanted to go back to Privet Drive. But why not the Burrow or Grimmauld Place?

  
Harry looked at her strangely when she suggested it. “I can’t go to the Burrow,” he mumbled. “It’s my fault.” His fault that Fred died, he meant.

  
“No one blames you, Harry.”

  
He just looked at her, and she read the answer in his eyes. _I blame me._

  
She touched his shoulder. “It’s okay, Harry. Really, it’s okay. Please go. I would be there, only I have to go to Australia to find my parents. The Weasleys could use your company.”

  
He pulled away. Hermione thought for a minute, then said. “Besides, it’ll give you and Ginny time to reconnect--“

  
“No!”

  
She startled at his outburst. “Harry?”

  
“I can’t even look at her. She blames me, I know she does, she doesn’t say, but it’s in her eyes it’s in all their eyes I can’t go there I can’t I can’t I can’t--“

  
She nodded. “I understand,” Hermione said. And she did. She felt the same way sometimes. She was supposed to be the smart one. She should’ve come up with a plan that would’ve saved Hogwarts faster, and then maybe their friends would still be alive. But she was practical enough to know that she couldn’t change anything. “Still,” she asked, “What about Grimmauld Place?”

  
“Too many memories. I remember Tonks and Lupin there. And Mad-Eye. It won’t ever be the same.”

  
“But Malfoy Manor? Harry, we were tortured there. Dobby died there.”

  
“I know it doesn’t make sense, Hermione, but this feels like the one right thing to do. Narcissa is okay with it, and she saved my life. Malfoy, too. I want to figure out how to thank her. And I want all this hate to end.”

  
So even though she didn’t understand, even though she herself would never be able to go back to Malfoy Manor again, Hermione stopped arguing. Harry could make his own decisions.

 

 

 

It was harder with Ron. “What the fuck you wanna be around him for?”

  
Harry tried to explain that it wasn’t about Malfoy. He didn’t want to be around Draco Malfoy. He just wanted to be somewhere different and new. He wanted to be around people who were grieving and feeling guilty as much as he was, but not whom he had hurt. He wanted to be miserable with company.

  
Ron wasn’t having it. “His people killed Fred!” Harry flinched. That was the worst part. Yeah, the Death Eaters had killed Fred, but Harry knew it was his fault. Fred had died fighting for him.

  
“Listen, Ron. I’m going and that’s that. You don’t have to like it, but you have to deal with it.”

  
Well, Ron didn’t like it. He didn’t talk to Harry until they got back to Hogwarts. Hermione owled him every day, but Harry never responded. When they came back for their eighth year, they were relieved to see, he hadn’t changed a bit-- except for the fact that his obsession with Malfoy had gotten even worse.

 

 

 **July 31st**  
Surprisingly, Harry didn’t mind that no one noticed his birthday. Back on Privet Drive, it had never been a big deal. He hadn’t gotten a worthwhile birthday present until he was 12 years old. He got presents this year, of course, from all of his school friends, even Ron. Ron and Hermione had pooled their money to buy him a new owl. Glendower, as he named the barred owl, would never replace Hedwig, but he was touched by the thoughtful present.

  
His favorite gift, though, was a small silver box encrusted with emeralds. When he opened it up, he saw that words floated across the inside of the lid. _You are brave. You saved so many lives. Thank you, Harry Potter. You are worth so much. None of it is your fault._ On and on they went, simple phrases that lightened his heart just a little bit. It was accompanied by a note that merely said:

 _To Harry Potter_  
_The boy who saved_

_-A friend_

The next day, everyone received the owls from Hogwarts. All the students in Harry’s year would be invited back for an eighth year. It was entirely optional; indeed, anyone who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts could enter Auror training if they wished immediately, without taking their NEWTs. The only students required to return were Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. Technically, they didn’t have to go back, but they were strictly told that if they wished any magical employment in Great Britain, they would have to attend a full year of Hogwarts, staying for the breaks and arriving two weeks early to help finish renovations.

 

Pansy met Draco at the Manor before they left together. Gawain Robards himself, the head Auror, would accompany the two Slytherins since the Hogwarts Express couldn’t be spared for just a pair of students. While they were finishing packing up Draco’s things, Narcissa started to cry.

  
“Lucius in Azkaban, and now they’re taking you too? I have no one left.”

  
Without bothering to look at her, Draco answered. “I am sorry, Mother, but you know that the Minister has given me no real choice.”

  
She only wept harder and left the room.

  
Robards followed and reprimanded her, saying, “The Minister is being quite good to you, considering all that your family has done. He has forgiven you and your son your crimes, and even allows you to keep your riches. You should be grateful.”

  
Narcissa stopped herself immediately. After a few very tension-filled minutes of silence, she inquired, “And how is the reconstruction of Hogwarts going?”

  
“Very well, thank you ma’am. Although it certainly won’t hurt to have these children here. I understand that your son was second in his class before?”

  
She nodded. “The, ah, Muggleborn, Hermione Granger, was top.”

  
Robards smiled. “I know. Brightest witch of her age, they say.” Once they started, conversation came easily. Narcissa was in considerably better spirits by the time Draco finished gathering everything he needed. At last it was time to say goodbye.

  
Harry showed up then, standing in the background where he hoped nobody would notice him. But someone did. Surprisingly, it was Pansy Parkinson.

  
“Hello, Potter,” she said with a surprising calmness in her voice.

  
“Parkinson.”

  
“What are you thinking about?” The question, like everything else about her today, surprised him. He decided to answer honestly.

  
“Love. Love is what saved us all from Voldemort, y’know. But what is love?”

  
“Bloody hell, Potter, I don’t know.”

  
“And why are there so many people who go unloved?”

  
“What a Gryffindor!” she groaned. But it was a friendly groan. Somehow, even though it had been months since they had seen each other, they were almost friends.

  
“My parents loved me,” he continued. “And so do my friends.”

  
“You’re a Gryffindor,” she stated flatly. “And you’re Harry Potter. Everyone loves you.”

  
He shook his head. “They love what I stand for. They don’t know me.”

  
She looked at him for a minute. “Potter, I don’t know what world you think you live in, but in this one, everyone loves you. Why do you think they died for you?” He flinched at that. She noticed, and decided to shut up.

  
“Are you going back to Hogwarts,” she asked?

  
“I don’t know yet.” He wanted to see Ron and Hermione again and he wanted to finish his studies. But he didn’t know if he could bear to walk through the halls and see all the damage. He would have to eat in the Great Hall where Fred and Tonks and Remus had been laid after their deaths. If he visited Hagrid, he would have to go near the forest where he himself had almost died. It was a nightmare.

 

 

“Pansy!” called Malfoy. “Come on!”

  
“One second!” She turned back to Harry. “Well, I think you should come. I might see you there, I guess. Goodbye, Potter.”

  
“Goodbye, Parkinson.” He watched as she walked away. Robards pulled out a Portkey, and he and the two Slytherins grabbed it and vanished. Narcissa went back to her room, but Harry stayed there, staring at the spot they had disappeared. He would go back, he decided, to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the people who left comments or kudos! It makes me feel so loved <3\. This chapter is, clearly, a little longer than the prologue. Next chapter is going to be Draco and McGonagall. Thanks for reading!


	3. Youth, Thou Bear'st thy Father's Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco knows he can help get the rest of the Death Eaters. McGonagall won't let him leave Hogwarts.

The two weeks that Pansy and Draco spent helping the teachers fix up Hogwarts were boring. Sure, they repaired plenty of windows, cleaned up all the blood stains, and made the castle look good as new. But it didn’t require much thinking.

Draco didn’t want to be there. It wasn’t that he minded school. In fact, he had always liked it. It was an escape from his father. It was a well known fact that Lucius was not nice to his son. The first time he ever truly smiled at Draco was after he got his Dark Mark.

After the war, Draco had decided to turn around and go Light. He wanted to repent for the people he had hurt. He would join the Aurors and get rid of the rest of the Death Eaters and other Dark Wizards. He had spent all summer planning. He would become good. Stop teasing Harry Potter. Make the teachers like him. Why Harry had been at the Manor he wasn’t really sure, but the Gryffindor had pretty much stayed in his room so Draco wasn’t too bothered. 

But now that he was at Hogwarts, his plan seemed impossible. No matter how much he changed, could anyone ever forgive him? He didn’t think so. They all hated him too much. Nothing he could do could every possibly change that. 

Pansy tried her best to make him feel less shitty. They spent a lot of time outside, by the lake, talking about the future. Pansy had just gotten engaged to Blaise. She was planning on opening up a dress robe shop in Diagon Alley eventually, but after their last year was over, she was going to work at Madame Malkin’s for a while until enough people were interested in Pansy’s designs.

Draco tried not to be jealous of how easy this was to her. She had never had to get the Mark. Even though she was a Slytherin, someday people would be able to forget that and she could have a normal life. Draco would have to try ten times as hard as any other wizard just to have half the acceptance.

 

The day before the other students were to return, Draco and Pansy were sitting in the Great Hall. Pansy was chattering about her wedding, but Draco wasn’t really paying attention. Across the hall, McGonagall and Flitwick were talking about the hunt for the remaining Death Eaters. Some of them had fled the country and were hiding in the French countryside. 

Draco thought, and realized that he knew where they probably were. Yaxley, for example, had a hidden estate outside of Nantes. He stood up and started walking over to the Headmistress and Charms teacher.

“Draco! What are you doing!” cried Pansy indignantly.

“Pans, I’ll listen later. This is important.” 

“Mister Malfoy, is something the matter?” asked McGonagall.

“Listen, Headmistress! I heard you talking about the Death Eaters and I think I know where they’re hiding! There’s a house in Southern France, and another one outside of Nantes—“

“Do you have the addresses?” she interrupted. 

“Kind of? It’s hidden by the Fidelius Charm. I could take you there, though.”

“Absolutely not! This year, you are a student. We are not letting any of our students get involved in wars and struggles.” Draco thought that was unlikely. Harry Potter would find a way to get involved somehow and he would get the rest of Hogwarts involved. 

Draco tried to argue some more, but McGonagall cut him off. “No, Mister Malfoy.”

He went back to Pansy and she talked some more about something he didn’t care about or bother paying attention to. Draco was busy thinking about how to get McGonagall to let him go to France.


	4. What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa Malfoy has two interesting conversations

That same day, Narcissa had a visitor— Cassiopeia Flume, an old friend from her Hogwarts days, one of the Slytherins who had stayed out of the war. They were sitting in the dining room when Cassiopeia asked, “So I hear that Harry Potter is staying here this summer? Why?”

Narcissa shrugged. “I’m not really sure,” she admitted. “I think he would rather be around his former enemies than his friends. But he mostly keeps to himself. It’s easy to forget he’s even here.”

Cassiopeia nodded wisely. “He goes back to Hogwarts tomorrow?”

“I think so. I know he’s leaving here tonight. Why?”

“Oh, nothing.” Cassiopeia was smiling, though. “And how is your son faring with the disappointment of the Greengrasses breaking the betrothal?”

Narcissa was startled. “He’s doing fine. You know that he never cared that much for Astoria. What brought this up?”

“Nothing, nothing my dear! Only curiosity. Well, I should be going. My daughter starts Hogwarts tomorrow, and I fear she will be panicking. Ambrosius never knows how to deal with her when she’s like this. I’ll see you for tea next week?”

“Yes, of course,” Narcissa mumbled absentmindedly, still confused at her friend’s odd behavior. 

Once Cassiopeia had left, Narcissa called her house-elf. “Flippy!”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Tell Harry Potter I wish to see him, when he has time.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

 

 

Harry arrived rather quickly. He seemed more… present, Narcissa thought, than she had seen him all summer. His eyes had a sort of gleam to them and he looked at what was in front of him, rather than something deep inside his mind. 

“You wanted to see me?” he asked. 

“Yes, Harry. You know, I’ve enjoyed having you here this summer.”

“Oh?” he asked. 

“Yes. It’s been a pleasant change from how this house has been for the past several years. But I wanted to thank you for supporting Draco and I at our trials.”

“Of course. You saved my life.”

“Still, you didn’t have to defend us so strongly. It puts me in your debt.”

Harry looked startled. “I helped you and you helped me. How are you in my debt?” 

“You kept my son from Azkaban,” she said softly. “Azkaban is a fate worse than death.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I think it balances out. You don’t need to be in my debt.”

Narcissa smiled. “You are a charming boy. You are the godfather of my grand-nephew, correct?”

“Yeah. Teddy.”

“That makes you almost like family.”

Harry laughed at that. He laughed so hard that Narcissa didn’t know whether or not to be offended. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he gasped out. “Only, I don’t think Mal-- your son would like that very much.”

Narcissa smiled grimly. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t, would he. Well, the world is changing. Eventually he will have to accept those who are different from him. Still, if it weren’t for Draco, would you allow me to consider you my nephew of sorts?”

Harry still looked confused, but he shrugged and said “Sure.”

“And, Harry, are you going to Hogwarts tomorrow?”

“Yes, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Please! If we are family now, call me Narcissa.”

“Yes, Narcissa,” Harry repeated, sounding a little bit dazed. 

“Look after my son, then, will you? I know he won’t like it, but do this for me. People aren’t going to treat a former Death Eater like a human being. You know it. Please, take care of him?”

Harry replied that he would. They talked a few minutes more about mundane trivialities, and then the boy left to go finish packing. Narcissa sighed. Tomorrow, she would be alone in the Manor. She hoped that the year would go by quickly.


	5. End of Act 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone adjusts to living at Hogwarts again

Hogwarts was different this year. The train was quieter. The confidence that younger students normally had was completely gone. When the carriages arrived to pick returning students up from the train station, for the first time, almost all of the students could see the thestrals. 

The opening feast was pretty subdued. Most students, especially the oldest ones, made an effort to be energetic for the Sorting, but it was hard. Before the feast began, McGonagall stood up to make her announcements. 

They would have, as usual, a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Sturgis Podmore, an old member of the Order of the Phoenix and the one who had been arrested for trying to break into the Department of Mysteries, had agreed to hold the position. Slughorn would remain the potions professor, and for this year at least while they tried to find another teacher, McGonagall would still instruct for Transfiguration.

This year, there would be some changes in the House system. Only about half of the eighth year students were returning, so they would have their own dormitory. Additionally, and a surprise to everyone, the House Cup was being disbanded. House rivalries were to be avoided. Hogwarts was, McGonagall insisted, one school and they should try to treat it as such.

 

Once classes started, things seemed more normal. The Golden Trio hung out a lot, they visited Hagrid, and Ron forgave Harry for spending the summer at the Malfoy’s instead of the Burrow.

One day, Harry was wandering around trying to find a quiet place to write a letter to Andromeda asking after Teddy, when he heard shouting. He sighed, and went to find the source of the noise. Two seventh-year Gryffindors had Malfoy cornered. “Expelliarmus!” one shouted, disarming the older wizard.

“Petrificus Totalus. Now, Malfoy, let’s see if you’re so tough.” As Malfoy stood there paralyzed, they started punching him. “This is for Colin.”

“Stop!” Harry cried. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

They looked away. “It’s his fault that Colin died,” one said quietly.

“No. It isn’t. It’s Voldemort’s fault and no one else.”

“But—“

“No!” The anger in Harry’s voice startled them and they scampered away. Harry muttered a quick counter-curse, and Malfoy grabbed his wand.

“I can take care of myself, Potter,” he snapped. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

Harry shrugged. “I’d do it for anyone, but your mother wanted me to help you. She thought this might happen.”

“I said, I don’t need your help!” He stormed away.

Harry sighed. 

After that, he stayed away from Malfoy, but he made it known that anyone who messed with the Slytherins would have to answer to him. Bullying was not acceptable. And no one wanted to anger their hero, so the unliked House was pretty much left alone.

By October, things had settled down. Being back at Hogwarts was still weird for the eighth years, and everyone noticed their missing classmates, but things were pretty much all right. And then the decree came.


	6. I am commanded here and kept a coil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kingsley Shacklebolt is a dick. This might be kind of OOC, but we don't really know him that well. I see him in this story as somewhere less manipulative than Dumbledore, but also not as subtle about it.

In early October, Kingsley Shacklebolt and a few of the Aurors came to Hogwarts. They gave lessons to all of the Defense classes, showing them basic spells and making sure that everyone felt safe. It helped a lot, especially with the younger students. The older students they just talked to during their classes. They informed them about the progress they were making, hunting down the Death Eaters. They talked about options for students who were having nightmares, or anxiety attacks. 

It was really great, especially for the Slytherins. The Aurors paid just as much attention to them as to the rest of the students. Maybe even more. Every student who was personally involved in the conflict had a private meeting with them. Draco expected his to be boring. Lots of nodding, telling them he was all right, trying to get them to leave him alone. Or maybe, despite everything, they would still blame him.

But they were nice. Nice, but understanding. 

“How are you doing, Draco?” Kingsley asked. 

“Fine, thank you, Sir,” he responded.

Kingsley looked at him. “Are you really fine? I understand that you were personally tortured by Voldemort multiple times.”

Draco flinched. The man didn’t have to say it so bluntly. “I said that I’m fine.”

“Good,” the Minister said, smiling. “I’m glad. I heard that you gave us a tip on the Death Eaters in France?”

Draco nodded. 

“Well, I’m happy to report that we have the place surrounded. We can’t go in yet, but we can ensure that they can’t Apparate in or out of the town. They’re trapped. Do you still wish to help?”

“Oh, yes sir!” Draco said excitedly. Would they actually let him?

No.

“As soon as next summer begins, we will take you with us then. We’ve decided to run some intensive magical career training alongside your winter and spring classes for any eighth-years who know what they want to do. If you’re interested, we would be more than happy to have you join the others in Auror training.”

Draco stared at him. He honestly hadn’t imagined that this would be possible. That they would just… let him in. He had thought that, at the very least, he would have to prove himself spectacularly. 

Kingsley noticed his expression. “We’re moving beyond judgment, Draco. In fact, I am making radical changes in the way we run things with regards to blood purity and wizard society. You are to be granted the rights of any other wizard of your age and with your skills. What you did in the past wasn’t your fault. Do you want to join Auror training?”

“Yes,” said Draco. “But all I need to help with right now is just giving you the secret and letting you in. I don’t need training for that, do I?”

Kingsley shook his head. “You need a break. And even though I just said that we trust you, some people aren’t convinced. They want to make sure that you’re in the right environment and psychologically in the right place. Give them this year, Draco.”

Draco wasn’t sure what psychologically meant, but he knew he wasn’t happy about what the former Auror had said. He wanted to go now, not wait a year. But he would be patient. He would be smart. And he would take advantage of this gift he had been given. 

 

 

Harry’s meeting went very differently. Kingsley was much more nervous.

“Sit down, please, Harry.” Harry sat down. 

Kingsley attempted a smile. “Harry,” he asked. “Do you still want to be an Auror?” 

Harry just sort of looked away. “I don’t really know yet.”

“Well, if you do, we have a training program that will be beginning in a few months. So just let us know. If you don’t join then, you’ll have to wait until the normal training.”

Harry nodded.

“How, um, how are you doing? Glad to be back?”

Harry glared at Kingsley. “People I cared about died. How do you bloody think I’m doing? I can tell something’s going on. What is it?”

Kingsley flinched. “Well, you see, we’re still recovering from Voldemort.”

“Obviously.”

“And we don’t want to let someone like him rise again.”

“Right.”

“So we’re going to get rid of purebloods.”

Silence. Then, “Could you say that again? I don’t know if I heard you right.”

“We’re going to get rid of purebloods.”

Harry stood up and started to walk towards the door. “You’re idiots. You can’t do that. You’ll be no better than he was.”

“Wait, Harry!” Shacklebolt stopped him. “It’s not like that! We will do it gradually, over generations. We’ve issued a decree that of any set of siblings with four wizarding grandparents, at least one must marry someone who does not fit this definition of pureblood.”

Harry was confused, but it didn’t matter right now.

“What’s this got to do with me? Half my grandparents are Muggles.” 

This was where Shacklebolt got uncomfortable. 

“Well… You see, we thought you might set a good example. Marry a pureblood.”

“You’re telling me who to marry.” Harry said flatly.

“Just suggesting! Your girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, is a pureblood. Marry her, Harry, please!”

“Ginny and I aren’t dating anymore,” Harry snapped.

Shacklebolt was crestfallen. “Well, then, Harry, the choice is yours. The decree won’t be officially announced for another month, so you can wait until then to choose.”

“Wait! You’re telling me I have to do this?!?”

“I can’t officially order you to, but I am saying that it is well within your best interests. I’m sorry, Harry, I know you don’t like this. But we have to put the good of Wizarding Britain ahead of what you want. Just choose someone you can be happy with. One of the other Weasleys, or maybe a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. If you ever want to get anywhere in life, you will choose a spouse by the end of the month and you will be happy about it.”

Harry left the room then. He was shocked. Outraged. He didn’t tell any of his friends, but he knew he had to do something drastic. This new decree would hurt not only him, but every pureblood out there who wasn’t evil, just pureblood. Muggles would consider this inhumane. Somehow, he had to stop it.


	7. Commend me to my kinsmen and my son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa gets a letter

Cassiopeia and Narcissa were having their weekly tea when Narcissa received the owl. She looked up at her friend with wide eyes. “Cassie?” she asked. “Have you heard of this anti-pureblood decree?”

Cassie shook her head. “No. That sounds bad though.”

Narcissa nodded slowly. “It is. Legally, Draco will be required to marry someone who isn’t a pureblood.”

“Can they do that?”

“They are doing it. They’ve done it. It’s going to happen. I have to write a letter.”

Narcissa ran faster than she had moved in years to go grab parchment and ink. Cassiopeia grabbed the note her friend had left behind. Her mouth pursed into a little smile as she read. Hmm, she thought. This is going to be very interesting indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so short! Act 2, Scene 2 in the play is a couple pages long and not very plot-relevant. Basically all that happens is that the Countess, represented by Narcissa in my fic, sends a letter to Helena. Don't worry, next chapter will be fun and filled with drama. Lots of drama.


	8. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes to hell

The ball dropped after the Halloween feast. Everyone was about ready to go back to their dormitories, when Professor McGonagall stood up with a frown on her face. “Everyone, we have an announcement that all of you are required to be here for. Prefects, if you could go gather the rest of your students.”

Her tone was unusually severe enough to worry everyone. The prefects scrambled and all the students were there, sitting nervously within the next ten minutes.

Draco, Pansy, and Blaise were sitting together at one end of the Slytherin table, talking about what they had learned in their new Magical Theory class, a class that had been created to accommodate the extra students in their year. “Do you really believe that spell invention has declined over the last millennium because we’re reaching the maximum number of spells?” asked Blaise.

“It’s a relatively new theory,” Pansy argued. “I think there’s something else going on.”

“You’re probably right,” said Draco absentmindedly. His friends continued to argue as he daydreamed about nothing in particular.

“But then what else? Are our wizards just less inventive?” Blaise replied.

“Well, and less likely to risk their lives,” Pansy answered.

“And, I suppose, the Ministry doesn’t put any effort into it…”

“Exactly!” the girl exclaimed.

“So there’s no reason for them to—“

“That’s what I was saying.”

“But I don’t know what we can do about it.”

“Because in the past, life was—“

“Shorter and harder and worth less,” Blaise finished.

“Yes! Exactly!”

“It’s a problem, but I don’t want to be the one to risk my life for it.”

“Me neither,” said Pansy with a shudder. “Anyway, what do you think this grand announcement will be?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Blaise groaned. “Maybe the Death Eaters are outside waiting to kill us all.”

Draco snapped back at that. “Blaise, that simply isn’t amusing. Not if we say it.” He was right, and they all knew it, but none of them were happy.

At that moment, McGonagall stepped forward.

“I must inform you that Minister Shacklebolt is back, and he has something to say to all of you.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked through the door. “Greetings!” he said with a smile. “You are the first to hear the official Anti-Muggleborn Discrimination Act 24.

_“I, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic do hereby proclaim that in an effort to end any future discrimination against those known as Muggleborns, a new law pertaining to marriage shall be made. Of any pureblood family, a family being considered a unit of those cohabiting a single residence at least 1/3 of the time and those who either legally or genetically share one parent, and pureblood being defined as those families where the children have no Muggle or Squib blood going directly back at least two generations, at least one child shall be required to marry either a Muggle, a Squib, or a witch or wizard who is not here defined as a pureblood. This law shall be applied beginning with those who, on this day October 31st 1997, are under 19 and unmarried._

“So, to put that in less legal terms, if all your grandparents are magical, you or one of your siblings has to marry a non-pureblood.”

A clamor rose throughout the room. Everyone was outraged. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy stared at each other. None of them had any siblings. Blaise and Pansy… No. This wasn’t fair. They had a future planned together. Right now, Draco didn’t care about his own required wedding. But, his friends? How could the Ministry do this? What right did they have?

“You can’t have to do this!” he said. “You can, I dunno, leave England.”

“And do what?” Pansy asked sourly. “Go where?”

“I don’t know! Somewhere. Somewhere else.”

“Attention!” cried Kingsley. “As a first start, I have asked Mr. Harry Potter to make the first choice. Whichever Pureblood he chooses will marry him.” Draco knew that Potter would probably choose his Weaslette girlfriend. Everyone would think it was adorable. They didn’t know how much this law would screw up the lives of people who really deserved to be happy.

Harry walked forward, slowly. He didn’t look happy, Draco noticed, but he didn’t look surprised either. Draco guessed the Gryffindor had known this would be coming.

“I know you’re all surprised about this,” Harry began. “Hopefully you can also still be happy.” He shot a glare at Kingsley. Draco was surprised that Harry was bothered at all.

“What, is he giving a speech?” Blaise muttered.

“Go on, Harry,” Kingsley said sternly.

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed,” Harry continued, “our Minister is giving me this choice because he wants me to use my fame to make this new law popular.” Draco surprised himself by laughing. Who would’ve thought the precious Savior could be so blunt?

“I’m just one of you. I’m not any more pleased about this arranged marriage thing than any of the rest of you.”

“Harry,” Kingsley warned.

“Yes, fine. Ginny. If I asked you, would you marry me?”

“I guess,” she muttered. Huh. Maybe Potter and the Weaselette weren’t dating anymore.

“Well, I don’t choose you.” Harry moved on the next table.

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” Blaise said in a low voice.

“Susan Abbott. You are a brilliant witch. If forced to, would you accept my hand?”

“Gladly,” the girl said with a little giggle.

“I hope that someone will love you, someday, but it isn’t me. Ernie Macmillian! You’re my friend, or at least we know each other. But I know you aren’t gay, so I won’t even bother asking you.” Did that mean Potter was gay, Draco wondered? The Gryffindor arrived at the Slytherin table. “Pansy! I know you would hate to have to marry me.”

Pansy was startled, but replied quickly. “I wouldn’t have a choice, would I, Potter?”

Harry nodded. “True. At any rate, I’ve decided. I will marry Draco Malfoy.”

What?

What?

Draco was speechless. Really, truly, dumbstruck. There was no way. It wasn’t possible. Out of everything, he had never even considered this. He couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Him, marry Potter? No. Unthinkable. No.

Kingsley’s voice cut into his whirling thoughts. “All right then, we will have the wedding tonight.” What? This was even worse. He really, really, really couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t real. He was dreaming. This was a nightmare.

But Draco knew what nightmares felt like, and he knew this wasn’t one. This was his life.

“Minister, Sir, I’ll follow the decree, I’ll marry a Muggleborn, whatever you like, just please at least let me choose?”

“Are you ungrateful, Draco, for everything Potter has done for us? And how he saved you?” This wasn’t fair. Draco never said that. He just wanted a goddamn choice.

“No, I’m very grateful, but why does that mean I should marry him?”

“He killed Voldemort.”

“But we’ve been enemies for years, why does that make a difference? He hates me!” Except for Draco and Kingsley, the Great Hall was completely silent. Everyone was staring at them.

“Apparently not. Just because you had a rough start, doesn’t mean you can’t have a good future. Are you sure you just don’t want to marry him because he’s a half-blood, or a Gryffindor? If you examined our blood, or our individual traits without knowing our houses, you would never be able to tell the difference. Harry is a great man. Don’t look down on him for what he is and what he has been. Good alone is good, without a name; Harry is good. You can be happy together.”

“But,” and Draco was almost humiliated to be saying this in front of so many people but at the same time he was in the middle of losing everything and he didn’t care anymore. “I don’t love him.”

“If you keep arguing with me, Malfoy, you’re only hurting yourself.”

“I’m grateful for what he’s done. Voldemort is dead. We aren’t going to start another war. Why can’t you just let it go?” When he said this, Draco knew he wasn’t just talking about the marriage law, but about all the prejudice, the teasing, the insults that he and his friends got every single day.

“No! Harry has made his choice. Marry him tonight, or you’ll be sent to Azkaban.” People around the room gasped. Kingsley really was serious with this nightmarish plan of his.

Time seemed to freeze for Draco. He thought desperately, but couldn’t think of any other solution. “Fine,” he whispered, collapsing back into his seat. He hadn’t noticed standing up. He felt drained and empty. Nothing was all right anymore, and none of it mattered.

 

 

That afternoon, the three Slytherin eighth-years sat around in silence. They were all miserable. Finally, Pansy spoke up. “You were right, Draco. We should run away.”

“Where will we go,” he mumbled. “Where can we go?”

“To France! You know where the Death Eaters are. We can get rid of them. Do the right thing. Somehow, maybe, they’ll accept us? If we try hard enough, maybe they’ll let us back without forcing us to do this.”

“We can elope,” Blaise said. “If we get legally married in France, I don’t think they can do anything about it.”

Pansy nodded. “It’s worth a shot. I don’t see what other choice we have. Draco, are you coming with us?”

He shrugged. “What else can I do? I’ll wait until after the wedding ceremony, but before… before they expect us to have sex. That way no one else can get hurt by this, at least not yet. I’ll send an owl to Mother, telling her why we left. And then we get of here.”

And so they did.


	9. With what apology you think may make it probable need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy confronts Harry

Before the wedding, Pansy went to talk to Harry. He avoided looking her in the eyes, but she could tell he wasn’t really ashamed. He just didn’t want to upset her.

“Why did you do it, Potter?” she asked. “I know you don’t really like him. So why are you doing this?”

Harry shrugged. “You and Blaise, right?”

“What?”

“You and Zabini. You’re a couple.”

She glared at him. “We were a couple. I don’t think that’ll last with this new law.”

“Well, I think this law is incredibly stupid. Hopefully the Ministry will see how awful my marriage is and overturn the whole thing.” He hesitated. “Don’t tell Malfoy… Draco… that I said that, please.”

She frowned. “I won’t. But Potter, that is an unbelievably idiotic plan.” 

“Well, maybe so. But it’s the best I could do.”

It might be the best for Potter, but it wasn’t the best for Draco. Pansy stalked away, deciding that she wouldn’t mention this conversation to anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short! This scene is another one that's only a couple pages long.


	10. I am your most obedient servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the trio has left!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry to it's been so long between updates. To be honest, I almost forgot about this fic what with my other homework, and fall break, and the show I was in. I promise that I'll be writing more now, and that I will finish everything by the end of the year (just two months!)

The trio of Slytherins spent the night disguised in the Leaky Cauldron. In the morning, they would head for France, and speak with the French equivalent of the Minister of Magic. Wearied by the long, impossibly emotional day, they got quickly drunk on Firewhisky and prepared a few draughts of a hangover potion for the morning. While Pansy was in the bathroom, Blaise turned to his friend.

“I hope you don’t think that she’ll be much good in a fight.”

“What, Pansy? Of course she’ll be bloody good in a fight,” Draco said, confused. “I’ve seen her when she’s angry.”

“Well, I know her too. And she’ll be completely useless in an actual fight with real danger. She’s a wonder, but she’s not made for battle.”

“Are you crazy?” the blond boy asked. “I would be terrified to duel against her.”

Blaise shrugged. “Well,” he said, “I suppose that we’ll just have to see, then.”

His… are they still fiancés? His girlfriend came back. “My sister can get us a Portkey first thing in the morning,” she announced.

“Without anyone knowing it’s us?” Blaise asked.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Who do you take me for?”

“Not an idiot, Pans. I just wanted to make sure.”

Draco asked suddenly, “D’you know if the news has gone out yet, that we’re fugitives or about the bloody law?”

“No,” Pansy answered. “At least, my sister hadn’t heard of it.”

“It’s still soon, though,” Draco muttered.

“Draco, I think we’re safe. I don’t quite think we’re doing anything against the law, at least not yet.” It was true. The law didn’t say the marriage actually had to be consummated (at least, they didn’t think so) and there was nothing altogether illegal about leaving Britain.

“I’ve written letters, and I’ll send them off by owl tomorrow. You all should too, if you want. I don’t think it’ll be safe to tell anyone where we’re going, but I don’t want Mother to worry about me.”

Blaise nodded. “All right, I’ll go do that now.”

After he left, Draco looked at Pansy. “Are the two of you in a fight?” he asked.

“No? At least, not that I’m aware of,” Pansy answered.

Blaise came back over to grab a new pot of ink. “Are you going to write anyone, Pans?”

She shrugged. “I already flooed my sister. And there’s no one else I need to talk to.”

He nodded. “All right. Just, if you want to talk to her once we leave make sure we use owls, so no one can track us.”

He went back over to his side of the room, and the other two stared after him. “Maybe there is something going on,” Pansy murmured.

 

Just then, an owl knocked at the window. Draco walked over and grabbed the letter. “It’s from Potter,” he said, his voice devoid of expression.

The letter was short.

_Draco_ , it said in a terribly messy scrawl, _I know you don’t want to marry me. I know you ran away. Fine. Kingsley is pretty pissed. At this point, I’m not sure I know what to do about the situation. It was probably a stupid idea to start with. Ideas?_

Draco laughed. Not what he expected. A stupid situation? Yes, yes it was. Ideas? Of course he had ideas. He was a Slytherin. He thought for a minute, then wrote out a quick reply.

_You can hardly be surprised, can you, Potter? What the bloody hell were you thinking? Well, at least you gave me the motivation I needed to get out of Hogwarts and make a change._ Draco was nervous about putting that part in. Would it give too much away? He decided he didn’t care. Y _ou could have at least warned me about what you were going to do._ He thought for a moment, then added, _Go to Malfoy Manor. If we’re legally married, I suppose it’s your home now._  
 _Draco Malfoy._


	11. Second Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts is in shambles

Harry was shocked when he discovered that his husband-- God, that was weird to think-- was missing. He was shocked, but he understood it. So he sent off one of the school owls with a letter, and waited for the reply.

Hermione and Ron weren't talking to him. Ron was disgusted with his choice of husband, which wasn't exactly a surprise. They were both hurt that he hadn't confided in them. They were both hurt that he hadn't even told them he was gay. He tried to explain that he wasn't actually gay, he was pan, but that didn't really change anything.

"It's not that I mind you not being ready to come out to us," Hermione said coldly. "Of course I understand that. But you had to tell everyone without telling us first? It's like you don't even care that we're friends."

In fact, no one at Hogwarts was being nice to Harry. They called him a Death Eater. The teachers were sorry for him, but sympathy wasn't what he wanted. He wanted understanding and friendship. In fact, he had almost made up his mind to go to Malfoy Manor before he got Draco's answer. He didn't really know how Narcissa would welcome him, or if she would welcome him at all, but if worst came to worst he would go to Grimmauld Place. Technically, it was his after all. 

Professor McGonagall absolutely refused to allow him to leave before winter break, but Harry flat-out told her that he was leaving. He was an adult. She couldn't stop him. She looked hurt, and almost sad. It was an expression he had never seen on her face before. He could barely believe it. McGonagall, sad? Hurt? She was made of immutable stone. Nothing could ever hurt her. 

But apparently he could. "If you could give me a course of study that I can do on my own until I come back, I'd be grateful?" he asked, hopeful it would help. She nodded, and was business-like again. After giving him a list of books to read, spells to practice, and potions to learn she said, "I hope you know what you're doing this time, Potter.

 

"You'll need all the luck that you can get."


	12. The reasons of our state I cannot yield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to see what's going on in France

The Aurors assigned to guard the Death Eaters weren't doing very well. It was a semi-permanent duty, as they were assigned to be there until after the Malfoy brat (little better than a Death Eater himself) graduated from Hogwarts. The French said they might have a method to break through Fidelius Charms, but they weren't sure and they needed England's cooperation. Shacklebolt and Robards absolutely refused. It wasn't that they didn't want to work with the French, of course, but they were convinced that their method was a good one. They didn't want to risk letting the Death Eaters escape.

Five Aurors were on stakeout duty as of the beginning of October: Dawlish, Proudfoot, Savage, Williamson, and Tendre. 

"This isn't fair," said Proudfoot. "The Ministry is refusing to send us the Malfoy boy, and they won't let us work with the French either? They don't want us to finish this."

Williamson shook his head. "I'm sure they know what they're doing."

"No," said Savage. "They aren't here. We're here. And I'm telling you, this isn't working."

So Savage and Proudfoot, who had been partners and spectacular Aurors for the last decade, decided to leave and go to the French.

 

Monsieur Hibou, head of the French Ministère Magique, welcomed them with open arms. "I cannot say that I quite understand this decision of your leaders to not be helping us," he commented, "But we do thank you for your help."

The three remaining Aurors decided not to report the desertion. They didn't want to abandon the stakeout, but they understood their friends departure. And so they helped them in this small way that they could. They made excuses for why the pair couldn't give their own reports. Halloween passed. So did the proclamation. The news didn't reach them before the fugitives did.


	13. Come thou home

Narcissa was very welcoming of Harry, especially considering what he had done to her son. She wasn’t happy, exactly, but she didn’t see the point in resenting him. Wizard marriages are binding and don’t allow for divorce. What’s done was done, and now they had to find a way to move on. She tried her best to make Harry her family, encouraging him to socialize with her guests more than he had over the summer. It was for this reason that he joined her in her first tea with Cassiopeia Flume since receiving the news.

He was late, though. Cassiopeia took this opportunity to ask how her son-in-law was getting settled.

“Oh, it’s going splendidly!” Narcissa said. “Except that I wish Draco were here. I do think of Harry as a son, though.” Not a lie. She didn’t think him the right husband for Draco, but she saw him as a son.

Cassiopeia laughed. “I don’t think you do wish your son and his husband were together. I have heard that your boy was quite upset.”

Narcissa nodded slightly. “So it seems.”

“Childish, this running off. I don’t see how his situation is that different from any arranged marriage.” At that moment, an owl came with a letter from the very same boy they were discussing. 

“Oh!” Narcissa cried, grabbing it, eager for word of her son. 

Cassiopeia said something, but Narcissa didn’t hear her, lost in the words Draco had written her. 

Mother,  
I have sent you a son-in-law. He has saved the world and ruined me. I have wedded him, not bedded him, and I swear to make the “not” eternal. I’m sure you’ve heard all sorts of dastardly things about my running away, although I am equally certain that my first owl reached you at least a day before the report from Hogwarts. If the world is wide enough, I will stay away from England. As always, my love,  
Your unfortunate son,  
Draco.

Narcissa shook her head. Draco was unfortunate, indeed, but Cassiopeia was right. This wasn’t the way he should handle it. However, as his mother, she would support him in whatever path he chose, as long as it wasn’t Dark—a possibility she never worried about.

While she read, Harry had arrived in the parlor, with a letter of his own. 

“Cissy,” said Cassiopeia. “More news.”

“Oh?” Narcissa asked.

“Your son is a strange one, sometimes.”

“Why do you say strange?”

“Go on, Harry,” Cassiopeia urged. “Tell her what your letter says.”

“Well,” Harry began, “He doesn’t plan to return.”

Narcissa laughed her lightest laugh. “Oh, he will eventually,” she said. “At least to visit me. But do you know where he is? He hasn’t told me the details.”  
“He’s working with the French to hunt down the last Death Eaters.” 

Narcissa smiled. That sounded like her son, finally being the hero he always wanted to be. 

Harry read aloud from his letter. “’When you can get the ring from my finger, which I never take off, and can conjure my same patronus, then call me husband. But when I say ‘then’ I mean ‘never.’’”

“Harry,” Narcissa said. “You are my son now. Draco may not be here, but except in his eyes, you are a Malfoy now. Harry Malfoy. Why does it matter if my son isn’t here, if you don’t love him anyway?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, looking away. “I hoped, after my birthday, that we could at least by friends.”

“Your birthday?”

“The box he gave me. That was him, wasn’t it?”

Narcissa remembered, a silver box with emeralds. It was enchanted, but she didn’t know with what spell. Apparently, a good one.

“Yes, yes it was. You say he’s gone to France?”

“Yes. But listen to this: ‘I shall only return to England when you are dead.’ Bitter words.”

“Harry,” Narcissa said sternly. “He has cause for bitterness. I don’t blame you, but he is within his rights to be angry and bitter.”

Harry nodded, but Narcissa could see that he was still hurt. She tried to distract him. “Who went with him?”

“Zabini and Parkinson.”

“Good friends,” said Narcissa. “Much like your Ron and Hermione.” 

Harry only looked away. Narcissa wondered if there was a story there, but decided not to ask today. The tea resumed, and the three had a good time.

Harry stayed at the Manor another week, but he was restless. He felt awful for what he had done to Draco, and wanted to make it up to home. He didn’t want to take the other boy’s home. He wanted to help. So, he decided, he was leaving England. It took him another few weeks, but he persuaded Kingsley to send him to Beauxbatons to speak about his experiences fighting Voldemort in their classes. By the end of November, he was off.


	14. Go thou forth

“Welcome, Monsieur Malfoy,” said M. Hibou, the French Ministère de Magique. “You are the general hope of our forces and we do pray that you will succeed in defeating these Death Eaters.”

“That might be too much trust to put in me,” Malfoy said hesitantly, “But I swear we’ll try our best.”

“Then go. You have our full resources. Best of luck to you.”

“Merci,” said Draco. “Adieu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short, especially because I've been less than consistent in writing. Hopefully there'll be another chapter later tonight, but if not, I promise at least 2 more this week. My goal is to start Act IV by the end of November, and this was Act 3 Scene 3, I think.


	15. Write, write

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa has a little bit of a meltdown

Cassiopeia was with Narcissa when she got the next owl. Narcissa was rather fed up with getting all the news late. At the very least, someone could floo her the news instead of sending an owl hours after whatever happens. “Cassie, read it for me,” Narcissa said, in a tone as close as she ever got to grumbling.

Cassiopeia smiled grimly, sympathetic with her friend.

 

“I am on my way to Beauxbatons. My ambitious plan has offended your son so much that I have given it up and will stick to what I know—my story with Voldemort. I will try to do enough good to make up for what I’ve done to your family. Write, please write Draco and tell him that I’m gone so he can come back here and reclaim his life. Let him live here peacefully. While I am in France, with my stories, I will clear all your names. It’s the least I owe all of you, after what I’ve done. I know you said you forgive me, but I hope one day Draco will as well. It’s my fault that Draco left, that he and his friends are no longer at Hogwarts and have lost their chances at any future in Magical Britain. I would rather die than hurt him, and I say this as someone who has already died. Until the next time I see you,   
Your son-in-law,  
Harry Potter.”

 

Cassiopeia smirked. “He is much more eloquent in writing than in person,” she said. 

“I wish Harry had consulted me,” Narcissa murmured. “If I had but five minutes, I could have told him not to do this. Draco chose to leave of his own volition.”

“You could go after him,” Cassiopeia suggested. “If you care that much. You know where he is.”

“No, I won’t,” Narcissa decided. “He can make up his own mind. I will write to him and ask him to come home, but I won’t force him to return. He is, after all, an adult.

“My son is unworthy of him. He won’t be welcome back in my house anyway unless he reconciles himself to what’s happened. Harry and Draco will be in the Manor together or my boy won’t be here at all.”

Cassiopeia looked surprised at Narcissa’s harshness, but Mrs. Malfoy née Black was absolutely sick of what was going on. She continued before her friend had a chance to interject. 

“At least Harry might have a chance to help us, telling our story to people who don’t think of us as Death Eaters first, rich purebloods second, and good people no where on the list. I’ll write to Draco and tell him how good Harry is being to us. I’ll try to speak as highly of him as I can. I’m sure Draco could value Harry more, even before they reconcile. Be a darling, Cassie, help me with this?”

“Of course, Cissy,” Cassiopeia responded.

“We can take our time with the letter. Write it carefully, then send it off with the fastest owl. I won’t tell him he’s not welcome here; I’ll tell him Harry is gone and he is free to return. Once Draco is back, I’ll tell Harry to come home. I can’t choose between them; I don’t know who is dearer to me. 

“Flippy!” she called suddenly to her house-elf. “Get me a parchment, a quill, fresh ink, and our fastest owl!” 

The elf appeared and disappeared and reappeared again within the span of a few seconds, and Narcissa got ready to write. She almost touched the quill to the paper a few times, and then stopped. Turning to her oldest friend she still had left, she whispered, “My heart is heavy with grief and tiredness. When will this all be over, and when can we resume our lives? I’m tired of this war that I thought was over, I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of politics and danger and arguing. We already had our wars. I’m too old for this. I’m almost moved to tears. I can’t take much more of this, Cassie.” And the too-often regal lady began to cry silent tears. Cassiopeia took her hand and comforted her, while Narcissa had a well-deserved cry. They sat like that for a while until Narcissa was calm. Then she picked up her quill and started on her letter to her son.


End file.
